


Blue Skies and Fluffy White Clouds

by FreshBrains



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Comfort No Hurt, Community: pbam, Dildos, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Humor, Laughter During Sex, POV Veronica Lodge, Porn Battle Amnesty, Post-Episode: s01e06 Faster Pussycats! Kill! Kill!, Presents, Sex Toys, Sleepovers, Spa Treatments, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-10-02 05:39:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10210766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreshBrains/pseuds/FreshBrains
Summary: “I’ll take care of you, Elizabeth Cooper.”Betty eases herself up, their skin sticking together, the water splashing delicately against the porcelain tub. “You already do, Ronnie,” she says.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For the DW Porn Battle Amnesty Prompt Stack 2 prompts: dildo, gift, relax, spa night, toys.

“Are you sure your mom is okay with me staying here tonight?” Betty looks like a lost doe as she walks into the foyer of 330 Pembrooke. Her sensible sneakers squeak on the tile floor and the sound echoes through the empty space. “I know she’s probably tired after work.”

Veronica shakes her head briskly, dark hair swirling around her face. “Don’t you worry about that,” she says, clapping her hands together. She leans Betty’s suitcase up against the door frame. “The place is all ours tonight.” She doesn’t tell Betty that her mom is spending the night with Fred Andrews—she suspects the news might not go over that well, and to be honest, she doesn’t really want to think about it. “Let me give you the grand tour!”

Betty has been over a few times before, but they tended to head to Veronica’s bedroom. Half of it was the need for Veronica to get Betty in as few clothes as possible in as few _minutes_ as possible, but it was also classic avoidance—if she didn’t see the empty, cavernous apartment, it didn’t exist.

“This is the living room,” Veronica says, leading Betty around the sofas by the hand. “Cozy chairs, big fireplace. But we might have to Google how to make a fire if we get cold.”

“I think we’ll be okay,” Betty giggles, plucking at Veronica’s cashmere sweater. “It’s nice, though. Very classic. Perfect for you.”

Veronica feels herself go pink on response. In all the time she’s spent flirting in her life, and that’s a _lot_ of time, no one can make her flush like Betty. “You’re too sweet,” she says, tugging Betty in for a hug. “But really, it’s all just old. No one else really wanted it.”

Betty scrunches her brow in confusion. “That can’t be true. This place is gorgeous! I’m sure all the old Riverdale families were clawing each other for it.”

“The old Riverdale families want places like the Blossoms’,” Veronica says, shivering delicately at the thought of that big, cold mansion on the hill. “I swear, this town feels more like a V.C. Andrews novel by the day.”

“With less incest, I hope,” Betty says, nose scrunched. Then her eyes widen as she peers around the corner. “Oh my gosh, is that a claw-foot bathtub?”

Veronica grins, tugging Betty towards the bathroom. “It’s an original,” she says. “Built in with the apartment at the turn of the century!”

“I’ve always wanted a claw-foot tub,” Betty says longingly, running her fingers over the gilt taps. “It’s so romantic in a way, you know?”

 _Then you’ll love what I have planned for us_ , Veronica thinks, biting her lip in excitement. She still wants to surprise Betty, though. After all, this weekend is all about her.

She’d love any excuse to spend two days with her girlfriend, but she knows Betty _needs_ this right now. For the past week, Betty has been losing sleep and biting her nails down to the quick thinking about her sister—where she might be, who she might be with. Her parents are keeping a tight enough leash on her that Veronica is shocked they even allowed her to _visit_ Pembrooke, let alone stay the weekend. Veronica suspects she’s not exactly high on the public enemy list right now—at least she’s not a Blossom, or _investigating_ a Blossom like Jughead is. For now, she’s safe. And Veronica is going to take advantage of that.

Veronica takes Betty’s hands and pulls her close. “B,” she says softly, suddenly unsure of herself. “I want to be good to you this weekend. Make it all about you. You deserve it.”

Betty’s face goes soft with affection and she leans in to kiss Veronica. “You deserve it, too,” she says, lips grazing Veronica’s. She brushes Veronica’s cheek with her fingers, tucking her hair behind her ear. “So let’s just spoil each other, okay?”

“Okay,” Veronica says, smiling. “Now come on. We’ve got a lot to do.”

*

Veronica can’t remember the last time she’s felt this relaxed.

Candles lend the room a soft, orange glow and fill the space with the smells of lemon, blueberry, and peony—summer scents, smells that remind Veronica winter will be over soon. They flicker on the mantle and make the gold in the dated wallpaper shine.

The fresh scents mix with the smell of cherry-almond bars baking in the oven. At first, Betty almost laughed her out of Riverdale when she proudly presented her with a tube of packaged cookie dough—Veronica thought Betty was teasing her for not making something from scratch, but Betty just grabbed the tube and sliced off the top, digging her fingers in to eat it raw.

“Cookie dough was never meant to be baked,” she says through a mouthful of Tollhouse, and Veronica has never found her more adorable. The way Betty sucked chocolate off her fingers wasn’t exactly a hardship, either. “I’ll show you one of Polly’s favorite recipes.”

A short trip to the corner store later and they had homemade dessert baking in the oven, the bowls and spoons abandoned in a sticky heap on the counter. They’d clean up later.

They couldn’t agree on a movie at first. Betty was almost as much of a movie snob as Jughead, and that was saying something. “Sleepovers are for Hitchcock or Hughes,” she argued, holding up _Psycho_ and _The Breakfast Club_. “I mean, come _on_.”

“But what about _this_?” Veronica offered her a DVD copy of _Jawbreaker_ , and the way Betty’s face lit up let Veronica know she won that round. It was already on its second run on Veronica’s laptop and the sound of Rose McGowan’s voice served as a backdrop for their spa night.

They applied green tea face masks as their pedicures dried—a dark red OPI for Veronica and a pretty peach Essie for Betty. They already used half a box of charcoal nose strips since neither of them could get a hang of actually sticking them on, and one of them ended up plastered to Betty’s neck. Elbows and knees and heels were buffed with a rose-scented sugar scrubs; their hair shone with Moroccan oil treatments.

Veronica looks over to where Betty is curled up on the other side of the sofa, her peach-colored toes tapping along to the Veruca Salt song on the movie soundtrack. She’s working diligently with a red marker in the _Wonder Woman_ coloring book Veronica ordered off Amazon. She glances up and taps her bottom teeth with the pen, oblivious to Veronica’s grin. “Are Wonder Woman’s wonder-panties blue or red?”

“Blue, I think,” Veronica says absently, but she’s still staring at Betty. Betty looks so soft and gentle and sweet, bundled in her pink bathrobe she brought from home, her hair damp and curling down one shoulder. Veronica wants to unwrap her like a gift.

Betty looks up, brow arched in amusement. “What’re you staring at?”

Veronica just grins, knowing it makes her look a tiny bit evil. “Come on, Picasso,” she says, taking the marker from Betty’s hand. “I have a little something for you in my room.”

*

“You didn’t have to buy me a gift,” Betty says, eyes shining. She runs her fingers over the pink satin bow on the box. “Seriously, you’re so ridiculous. It’s like every day is my birthday with you!”

“Trust me,” Veronica says, sprawling out on the bed so she can watch Betty open the gift. “This is as much for me as it is for you.”

“Color me curious _and_ scared,” Betty says. She unties the bow and peels back the glossy white paper. The back flap of the cardboard box obstructs Veronica’s view of the contents, but she knows exactly when Betty sees her gift by the way her face lights up. “It’s so _cute_!”

Veronica laughs, heart pounding in her chest with happiness. She saw it and knew it was so perfectly _Betty_ , but she wasn’t positive how well it would be received. Betty is always a wealth of surprises.

Betty picks up the toy carefully from its bed of tissue paper, turning the hot pink silicon over in her hands. “I don’t even want to know what you Googled to find this,” she says. The flicks the tiny, twitching rabbit ears of the clitoral vibrator with her fingertips and giggles. “Bunny sex toy? You’re on a list now.”

“Sounds like a fun list,” Veronica says with a wink. “It has twelve speeds and patterns. Think you can last through all of them?”

“I want to have fun, not _die_ ,” Betty says, uncurling the charging cord. “We should plug this in.”

“But there’s more,” Veronica says, nudging the box. “Keep going!”

Betty groans, but she’s still smiling, face flushed. “Seriously, Ronnie, you need to stop buying me stuff. You know I don’t need— _oh my god_.” Her eyes go comically wide and her pink cheeks slowly burn to red. “Now I _really_ know you’re on some kind of list.”

“Take it out,” Veronica says, trying to edge the buzz of excitement from her voice. Her breathing quickens just watching Betty admire the size of her gift. “Let me see it in your hand, baby.”

Veronica’s never been one for dildos, especially the kind that look like a real cock. She’s not _opposed_ to cock, per se, but when she’s been with a cock-wielding individual, her favorite part of it has been the heat and skin—something she can’t get from a silicon toy. She prefers the functional little vibrators that can get her off quick and easy along with a girl’s sure touch. But once she saw the dildo while online shopping, she knew it was perfect for Betty. It was functional, sure—it served a purpose. But it was also bright and bold and _challenging_.

“You’re nothing if not…optimistic,” Betty says, mouth quirked in a smile as she squeezes her hand around the toy.

Veronica snaps after that—Betty is just too cute in her robe, turning a hot pink dildo over in her hand like a priceless artifact. She deposits the toys on the night table and tackles Betty onto the bed. They both dissolve into laughter as they shed layers, kissing and touching like they’re exploring each other’s bodies for the first time. For once, it doesn’t have to be rushed and passionate.

They can just _be_.

“Don’t worry,” Veronica says, lips grazing the curve of Betty’s breast. She trails kisses down the valley of her sternum, around her navel. “I won’t start too big.”

“You better not,” Betty says, breath hitching. Her nipples stiffen into hard, brown-pink nubs when Veronica nuzzles between her spread thighs. “I need at least two orgasms before you get that thing anywhere near me.” She motions towards the dildo on the night table where it is standing upright on its suction cup like a freshly-sprouted flower. “I think it’s looking at us.”

Veronica laughs, nipping at Betty’s thighs. “Then don’t look back,” she says, smoothing her hands up the backs of Betty’s thighs, urging her legs up over her shoulders. “I’ll warm you up nice and slow.”

Betty unfolds for her like a flower, her cunt soft and slick and pink, so wet she’s dripping onto the bathrobe that is splayed out beneath her. Veronica slides her finger through the slick and gathers it against Betty’s clit. “Is this all for me?” She teases Betty, touching her clit so gently that Betty arches into it, hipbones stark against her skin.

“I want it,” Betty says, firm and hoarse, and Veronica _loves_ that—Betty asking for what she wants, _taking_ it.

Veronica grins, slithering back up to kiss Betty, their lips smacking sweetly in the quiet room. “You want the bunny?” They both break into giggles, Veronica squirming against the bed. She wants some friction against her own clit, wants to ride against the muscle of Betty’s thigh, but this isn’t about her.

“Only if you don’t call it that,” Betty says. She spreads her legs, urging Veronica to grind between her thighs, their cunts slick where they press close together. Veronica groans, wanting to melt into Betty and ride out her orgasm, but she pries their bodies apart and reaches for the little pink vibe.

“Told you I’d start slow,” she says. She keeps the toy turned off at first, nuzzling it against Betty’s vulva, avoiding her clit. “I don’t want to earthquake you with it all of a sudden.”

“That’s _so_ dramatic,” Betty whines. “I’m ready, you know I am.” She spreads her thighs and curls up towards Veronica, trying to get her closer, trying to get the vibe right where she wants it.

“Okay,” Veronica concedes. She pulls the toy back and turns it onto the lowest setting, which is little more than a slow pulse. She leans over to kiss Betty, hot and open-mouthed, their hair tangling in a black-blonde mess on the pillow. When she touches the vibe to Betty’s vulva, Betty arches off the bed, groaning into Veronica’s mouth.

“Okay, earthquakes,” Betty says, shivering when Veronica circles around her clit, not yet touching the swollen, sensitive nub. “Now I get it.”

“Want me to back off?” Veronica tugs at Betty’s bottom lip with her teeth and watches it redden.

“I want you to _fuck_ me, Ronnie,” Betty says, voice hoarse and frustrated.

“Ooh, sharp teeth,” Veronica teases, but before she can continue the game, Betty takes hold of her wrist and clamps her thighs down around the toy, trapping it against her cunt. She’s warm and silky-wet against Veronica’s skin, and with someone else, Veronica might’ve pulled away and made her work for it. But now, she just smiles. “If you want it, take it,” she says, and with the small amount of space she has, turns the vibe up to the next speed.

When Betty _does_ take it, she puts her all into it. “Oh, _god_ ,” she murmurs, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth, brow scrunched in concentration. She works her hips in a smooth rhythm. “Here, I’m going to,” she thinks out loud, and rolls over onto her stomach, moving Veronica and the toy with her.

And if that isn’t a beautiful sight, Veronica doesn’t know what is. Betty rides her hand, the sound of the toy’s buzzing dulled between her legs, her flushed face smashed into the pillow. Veronica admires the slope of her back, the curve of her ass, and when Betty’s hips stutter, she brushes back Betty’s hair and whispers, “Come for me, sweetheart.”

Ten minutes later, Betty is curled up in Veronica’s lap, still drowsy. “I can’t believe I came twice on a toy called the Bunny,” she says forlornly, and Veronica snorts into her hair.

“To be fair, that’s what _I_ named it,” Veronica says. “But it still stands.”

Betty is boneless and sweet in her arms, her hair a mess, her eyes hooded as she plays with the chain of Veronica’s necklace. Veronica ends up padding into the kitchen in nothing but her tee shirt and Calvins to get them water and some slightly-burnt cherry-almond bars. They listen to Ingrid Michaelson and Bright Eyes on Betty’s phone while they eat, giving each other sticky grins over an old issue of _Us Weekly_.

“So, the pink elephant in the room,” Veronica jokes, gesturing like a game show hostess to the dildo on the night table.

Betty rolls her eyes. “I feel like you’re going to exhaust your dildo puns tonight.”

Veronica pouts. “But then what will I have left for next time?”

Betty glances at the toy, then back at Veronica, eyes narrowing. “I have an idea,” she says in the sort of tone she uses when she’s trying to get Jughead to break into an abandoned building with her, the sort of tone that gets Archie onstage singing a new song. It’s halfway between ingenious and evil and Veronica _loves_ that tone.

But before Veronica can even ask, Betty is rolling them on the bed so she’s straddling Veronica, her breasts bouncing as she reaches over to the night table. “You take such good care of _me_ ,” she says, “so now I’m returning the favor.” There’s a comical sucking sound as Betty plucks the pink dildo off its suction cup on the night table and wields it in her right hand, eyebrows arched as if she’s asking for permission.

Veronica raises one dark brow back at her. “Are you sure?” She trails her fingers up Betty’s waist, tickling her ribs. “It’s _your_ gift, babe.” She already feels her cunt ache at the thought of Betty using the dildo on her, but she knows Betty is also ready to go again—her pupils are blown and her stomach rises and falls with shallow breaths. She’s never looked so radiant. Veronica doesn’t know if she wants to wait any longer to make Betty come again.

“Exactly,” Betty says. She scoots down on the bed and spreads Veronica’s legs with sure hands. “Which means I can do with it what I please.”

Veronica huffs out a laugh and lets her head fall back on the pillow. She urges a pillow under her hips, body melting easily into the mattress. “I almost got you the glittery black one,” she admits. “For when Sith Lord Betty comes out.”

“I see Jughead got you to watch the prequels with him,” Betty says tersely, only annoyed because she herself is a devoted _Star Trek_ fan. She prefers the cerebral. She seeks out their little bottle of lubricant from the folds of the sheets and pours a dollop into her palm.

“Archie, actually,” Veronica says. Her stomach tightens in anticipation as Betty smooths the lube over the dildo, her hand strong and sure on the silicon like she knows _exactly_ how to wield it. The head peeks out from the catch of her fist. It really is big—bigger than it looked online. “As if Jughead is anything but an original trilogy purist.”

“Good point,” Betty says. “I think I prefer the pink.” She catches Veronica’s eyes and smiles. Betty has a lot of smiles, but there’s only one that is truly _Betty_ —wide and crinkle-eyed and earnest. Veronica hoards those smiles like jewels.

“B,” Veronica says softly. She squirms on the bed and catches Betty’s wrist. “Put it in me, baby. Come on.”

“Since you asked so nicely,” Betty says shakily. She trails her fingers over the curve of Veronica’s knee, drops her hand down between her legs. “You’re already so wet,” she murmurs. She cups her sex, hand slick and inviting with lube but not providing the friction Veronica seeks.

Veronica arches her back, pushing against Betty’s hand. Normally, they don’t need anything fancy to get off. She’d be just fine with riding against Betty’s hand or knee until she came. But after making Betty come, kissing her until their lips are swollen, seeing the sheen of sweat blossom over their bodies as they move together perfectly, Veronica feels raw and aching and _empty,_ needing something to fill her.

“Will you fuck me, Betty?” Veronica’s own voice sounds foreign and hoarse, almost desperate in the soft glow of the bedroom.

Betty gasps, the thought making her go pink from cheeks to sternum. She lowers the toy down between Veronica’s legs, then pauses. “Tell me if this is weird or not,” she says, and positions the base of the dildo against her own cunt as she nudges the head against Betty’s opening.

“Not weird at all,” Veronica groans.

The pressure is _perfect_ , and Betty slides inside of her inch by inch. Her mouth hangs open in aroused concentration, her eyes trained on the toy disappearing into Veronica’s body. She wriggles her own hips, seeking friction against her clit with the base of the toy.

“That’s perfect,” Veronica says, the words a breathless panting. “Right there, keep going!” There’s more _control_ here than she’s used to; Betty’s fingers brush against her cunt where the toy slides into her.

“Can I,” Betty starts, but once she feels Veronica’s wetness on her hand, she just lets out a weak groan and rolls her hips, pushing the toy up against Veronica’s g-spot. “That is _way_ hotter than I ever thought it would be.” She pulls back, the toy still wrapped in her fist. It’s a little clumsy, but she thrusts again, breasts bobbing above Veronica.

“You didn’t think,” Veronica starts, pausing to yelp when the soft head of the dildo presses against her g-spot, “this would be hot?” Her stomach tightens as her orgasm builds—she can’t take the sight of Betty with a wet hand wrapped around a dildo, fucking her like she’s born to do it.

Betty shifts forward, balancing with one hand on the bed next to Veronica’s head, urging Veronica to wrap her legs around her waist. “It’s a hot pink dildo, babe,” she says, kissing Veronica’s shoulder. “With _balls_ on it.”

Veronica is coming soon after, a syrupy-warm, laughter-filled orgasm that turns her into jelly and makes her hair stick to her forehead with sweat. It sends shocks through her legs, makes her tear up a little—it’s the kind of orgasm that makes her want to fall in love all over again.

While Veronica sinks into the bed, Betty disappears into the bathroom with the toys. Veronica hears water running for a minute or so before she comes back with a few towels.

“Let me,” Veronica says, starting to get up, but Betty shakes her head.

“I don’t think you’ll be moving anytime soon,” she teases, running the wet cloth between Veronica’s legs. Veronica winces a little and Betty frowns. “Oh, did I hurt you? Was it too much?”

“A little more than three fingers,” Veronica says with a wink. “I liked the stretch, though. You knew how to use that thing.” She opens her arms for Betty to come and lie down next to her. “And I just know you’re pleased as punch with yourself.”

“I’ll neither confirm nor deny,” Betty says with a yawn, covering them both with a blanket.

“I think I know what my next gift for you will be,” Veronica says sleepily, throwing an arm around Betty’s naked waist.

Betty groans. “I’m not sure my body, _or_ yours, will accept any more gifts for a long time.”

“Maybe not,” Veronica muses. She trails one fingernail over the crease where Betty’s hip meets her pelvis. “But I think you’d look pretty darn cute in a pink leather strap-on harness.”

Betty exhales deeply before snatching up Veronica’s hand and kissing her fingertips. “Maybe one more gift,” she says.

Veronica laughs until Betty hits her with a pillow.

*

“I don’t think I ever want to leave,” Betty murmurs. Veronica shivers when her lips graze the sweat-damp hollow of her throat. She kisses the crown of Betty’s head and holds her tighter, urging Betty to relax against her.

“The apartment or the bathtub?” Veronica scoops a handful of warm water over Betty’s bare back. The water is a soft, shimmery pink due to her new Rose Jam bubble bar from Lush, making their skin sparkle like mermaid scales in the soft bathroom light. It’s still dark outside, dawn fading into view over the horizon. The world feels so _still_ , so free of bodies in the river and girls escaping mental asylums. Veronica doesn’t want to leave, either.

“Both,” Betty says softly, voice still laced with sleep. “This has been the best weekend I’ve had in a long time.” Her breasts are soft against Veronica’s; they’re pressed together from head to toe, Betty safe in the warm, wet cradle of her arms, the steam enveloping them in a hazy cocoon. “Maybe ever.”

There’s something about that admission that makes Veronica ache, makes her want to fiercely fight anyone who has ever hurt Betty. But it also gives her the satisfaction that she has provided this for her girlfriend. She has given her a shelter, even just for a little bit—a warm, sweet-scented shelter from a world that doesn’t want to see girls like Betty Cooper take a stand.

“Then we don’t have to,” Veronica says. “We’ll stay here forever, you and me. We’ll get Jughead to bring us Pop’s. We’ll order movies from Amazon Prime.” She twines a wet lock of Betty’s hair around her index finger. “And I’ll take care of you, Elizabeth Cooper.”

Betty eases herself up, their skin sticking together, the water splashing delicately against the porcelain tub. “You already do, Ronnie,” she says. When she kisses Veronica, it feels like a thank-you and promise all at once.

They’ll go back into the world—they always do. They’ll fight Riverdale’s battles. Veronica will prove herself to this town and to the people who think she’s her father. Betty will uncover the secrets that Riverdale has kept buried for so long. And they’ll do it side-by-side, hand-in-hand—B and V forever.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is actually the name of one of the Lush bubble bars I bought last weekend!


End file.
